


This Sick Shit, Too Dumb To Tell

by DeadBeat666



Series: S'all Good, Man [3]
Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Caretaking, Crying, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Near Death, Panic Attacks, Poisoning, Saul Has an Anxiety Disorder, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting, Worry, protective mike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28845162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadBeat666/pseuds/DeadBeat666
Summary: Title Inspired By: Sick Shit by Together PANGEASomeone forgot to fill Saul in on how poison-happy his clients and acquaintances were getting. It was almost like there was some sort of invisible war going on, and the all but innocent lawyer found himself right in the middle of it.It’s just too bad he’s too dumb to tell… Good thing he was Mike looking out for him.Aka: A fic where Saul gets sick and Mike is the only one who recognizes it as a familiar poison.
Relationships: Mike Ehrmantraut/Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman
Series: S'all Good, Man [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852261
Comments: 19
Kudos: 28





	1. Nothing To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out my work! Sorry for any minor errors, this was finished within a day, but I will fix any I may have missed. 
> 
> Second chapter is well underway and should be up in the next few days :)

Saul woke up feeling just fine that morning, sitting up and checking his phone for any missed calls. He saw he’d missed a few of the routine telemarketers, rolling his eyes lightly as he ignored them. But he soon saw that he’d missed a call from his PI, Mike. He frowned lightly as he saw the name presented on the bright screen, wincing once he imagined those dead mackerel eyes boring into him.

 _Threatening to break his legs_.  
  
Saul shuddered lightly at the thought of Mike actually going through with those words. He never really beat Saul up before, just a few stern talking tos here and some roughing-ups there. But it was nothing a little foundation and false confidence couldn’t cover up… Saul got up, selecting to call Mike back.  
It rang once… Twice… Then went to voicemail.  
Saul huffed lightly, “Busy day I guess.” He mumbled to himself, trying to stay grounded.  
He and Mike had a history, but that didn’t mean he thought he was safe from a hole in the desert. Last time they had spoken, Mike had made it clear he wasn’t above taking out an old friend if it came down to it.  
_  
“Friend”... Yeah right. Mike probably got sick of watching the moral plummet of a freak-show._

Saul soon got dressed and walked out to his car, starting to feel the familiar ball of anxiety slowly tightening in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t even know what Mike wanted, and he was already starting to feel like a cornered and injured animal, trying to find a way out. But… This time it was mixed with a nausea he couldn’t place. He soon drove to work, rubbing his stomach lightly at a red light as he grimaced. He soon made it inside his office, and the nausea was still there and growing.  
“Uh, Francesca?” Saul asked over the intercom once he sat down, trying to ease the soft dizziness he was starting to experience, “Can you bring me a hot tea? Got this killer stomach ache and-”  
“What kind?” Francesca asked with slight impatience and annoyance.  
“I-I don’t know, something… _herbal_ ?” He reached.  
His receptionist didn’t bother telling him that all tea is herbal, rolling her eyes and getting up to make it.  
Not even an hour later, and the pit of nausea in his stomach was now radiating through his entire body. He felt cold chills coming on, along with a throbbing headache. He had drunk down three cups of tea and cancelled all appointments for the afternoon, feeling too miserable to even drive himself home. He only stopped at three cups because it was getting harder to walk all the way over to the bathroom, him just sitting almost limply at his desk. He let out a miserable groan right before his office door swung open.  
“What, you lose your phone?” A familiar and annoyed voice said, heavy footsteps soon following, "Cause I've been trying to call you all day."  
Saul quickly opened his eyes, head throbbing at the sudden light from the empty lobby. Shit, his phone must've died, and he hadn't even noticed.  
“W-Wait, Mike! I suggest you stay right there, I’m getting sick and I’m sure you don’t wanna catch it.” Saul rambled quickly, in that nervous and defensive tone of his, though now it was much more hoarse and weak. 

He raised his hands and bared his palms to the older man as if he could actually defend himself against Mike. Mike frowned even more, if that was possible, and looked around the dim office. There were tissues piled in the small trash can beside Saul’s desk, along with wet tea bags and an empty bottle of aspirin.  
Nothing was working.  
Mike raised a brow, slowly approaching Saul as his anger faded into- what, concern? No, that couldn’t be it. He was probably just curious as to how such an upbeat and spastic man could be down in the dumps like this. Mike raised his hand, making Saul flinch lightly in his seat.  
Mike sighed, “I’m not gonna hit ya, just sit still for a minute.” He said as if talking to a child who was squirming in the back seat. He felt Saul’s forehead with the back of his hand, “Yup, you’re burning up…” He said as if this was one of his investigations and his hunch had been correct.

“Yeah, I guess I worried myself sick over here, heh…” Saul said, trying to mask his uneasiness, but his nervous laugh only made it more apparent.  
Saul gulped after he spoke, feeling bile start to rise in his throat. Even his instinctive reaction to Mike bursting in had completely wiped him out, feeling like he might hit the floor now. Mike gave a low hum as he looked Saul over, as if trying to find some kind of clue.  
“Um… Wh-What did you want…?” Saul asked weakly, his sore eyes starting to sting and wetten with sensitivity.  
He weakly reached for a tissue, but Mike beat him to it, gently handing it to him. As Saul slowly dabbed his eyes, Mike sighed and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Saul’s desk.  
“How long have you been sick?” He asked, knowing Saul had been fine just a day or so earlier, and now suddenly he looked like he was on death’s doorstep, clutching a handful of daisies.  
Saul swallowed thickly before speaking, “J-Just this morning, when I was driving here… Never heard of a flu getting this bad so quickly though… What does that have to do with your call?”  
Mike ignored his question once more, “And what makes you think it's the flu?” Raising a brow lightly.  
Saul gave a weak scoff, “Cause it’s just like one… But it keeps getting worse…”

Mike exhaled, shifting and leaning forward lightly in his seat, “Now I need you to think real hard for me, Saul.” He said in his usual tone, like he thought that everyone he worked with was a complete child, “Who did you meet with yesterday?”  
Saul gave a groan, rubbing his aching temples, “I-I told you, attorney-client privileges. You really going to ask me to break it again?” He sounded absolutely miserable.  
Mike gave an impatient look, but there was something else he was showing. It was as if he was digging for something, and he for once looked a bit worried for the answer. 

He kept a steady gaze on Saul as he spoke slowly, “You better tell me _now_ , or I’ll turn this whole office inside out until I find something that’ll-”  
Saul let out a pitiful whine, head in his hands as his vision started swimming, knowing he would be completely powerless to stop Mike, or even get out of the way, “F-Fine! Walter, I met with Walter, ok? Is this what this is about? You want to know what your fellow baldie is up to?”  
His voice broke a few times while he spoke, having a hard time with his dry and aching throat.  
Mike seemed to tense up a bit at that, asking, “Did you leave him alone in here?”  
Saul weakly groaned, shaking his head as he supported it with his palm, elbow digging into the desk. It made his whole body wobble lightly, causing more nausea.  
“ _Did you_ leave him alone in here? Even for a second?” Mike asked again, voice slightly raised and daring.   
Saul closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth lightly as it seemed to be a struggle just to open his mouth, "I-I think I left for a moment… Was drinking a Nescafe and offered him one…"  
  
Mike sat up slowly, as if the puzzle was coming together now. He suddenly had this… calmness about him. It was strange, seeing as he had been so short with him moments ago. Mike slowly stood, walking over to Saul's side. Saul instinctively tensed, fighting the urge to lift his knees up closer to his chest.  
  
"Come on, let's get you to the car." Mike said, gently trying to make Saul stand.

Saul was instantly hit with another excruciating wave of nausea, shivering and holding his head to stop the pounding and dizziness. Mike had to all but lift Saul out of his chair, hands under Saul's arms. As soon as the lawyer's feet fell flat on the floor, he reeled and leaned forward, almost falling on his knees. He hunched over, hands gripping the rim of the small trash bin as he started dry heaving. Mike cursed under his breath, hand quickly grabbing the back of his shirt to keep the younger man from toppling over and puking all over himself. 

But of course nothing came up but some liquids, Saul feeling a stabbing pain at how tightly his stomach was tensing with each heave. But luckily it didn't last long, Saul weakly panting as he tried to collect himself. Once it was apparent Saul had nothing left to expel, Mike started helping him out to the parking lot, making sure he went at a slow and steady pace. Saul was almost being dragged by his heels, but luckily Mike was strong enough to get him to his car without a fall. Saul cleared his throat as he slowly grabbed the seat belt, even the pressure he had to use to buckle up made his arms and wrists ache. Mike turned the ignition on, staying in his usual quiet nature as he started driving. 

Saul was trying not to sound nervous as he looked out the window, "Wh-Where are you taking me? The hospital?"

Mike shook his head as he started heading towards the desert, soon the large buildings were fading behind them. Saul was for once thankful for the New Mexico sun, it easing the cold chills and making him shudder as soft waves of heat fought the chills. Mike took a deep breath, glancing at Saul and trying not to make his concern too visible. He knew this wasn't the flu, aware of Walter's access to ricin and his unconcern of who it went to. The cancer-ridden chemist was becoming more paranoid and erratic everyday. Mike set his jaw lightly, looking back at the road and shaking his head in disbelief. He wished he would've been allowed to kill Walter, out in the desert on his knees. Mike was more than just some shady lawyer's PI, but that didn't mean his associates were open season. This was a betrayal, a stab in the back by that desperate madman. He was going to get them all killed at this rate…

Saul was in the passenger seat, focusing too hard on not passing out from the vertigo the car ride was giving him. He grasped at the door, trying to make sure his fingers didn't reach too far and smug the window. A part of him was still paranoid that Mike would reach over and slap the hell out of him. His other hand was almost firmly pressing on his abdomen, his stomach feeling in knots still, continuously tightening and trying to force out the rest of its contents. 

"Stop the car." Saul had to force out, eyes closed tightly, feeling winded somehow.

Mike pulled over impatiently, off to the side of the desert road. He turned and watched Saul, seeing that he was getting pale and clammy. They didn't have time for this, but Saul looked ready to open the door and fall out if the car didn't stop.   
"What is it?" Mike asked in his usual gruff voice.  
Saul grit his teeth lightly, "I… I can't. Wherever we're going- I feel like I'm dying." Having no idea how right he was, "If you're taking me out here to kill me, just do it already." It was getting harder to breathe.  
Mike said, "I'm not gonna kill you, Saul. Stop being dramatic, you'll be fine. It's just the flu, remember?" As he pulled back onto the road. 

Saul let out a mix between an exasperated laugh and a sob, obviously not really sure how to take that statement. Where the hell were they going if not the hospital or a hole in the ground? But Mike stayed quiet, soon a big white tent coming into view. It looked like one of those tents used in the military as med bays. Saul narrowed his eyes as he tried to peer inside the opening as they parked, seeing only some metal cabinets. They looked medical, and soon the lawyer's guess was proven correct, several people wearing aqua blue scrubs rushing out. Saul's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the gurney.

"Uhm- Mike?" He asked weakly, looking over at him.

Mike simply stated, "We're getting it taken care of." Before getting out of the car.


	2. Kinda Need Some Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this 3 chapters long! I'm not sure when the last chapter will be posted, since I have a busy week ahead and haven't started writing it yet.  
> But expect a new X Rated fic of the pair in the very (and I mean very) near future :3 
> 
> (Warning: This chapter contains detailed/dub-con medical procedures, including ventilators, which have been known to cause mental trauma.)

Saul stared in shock, mouth open lightly in disbelief as he watched Mike walk around to his door. It was practically thrown open, the medical staff grabbing at him to haul him onto the gurney. He was taken back by this, their hasty attitude confusing him. Why was this suddenly so urgent? 

Either way, it was sending red flags Saul's way, him trying to yank his hand away from them. He hated hospitals or anything medical related, and not just because of the poking and prodding. It reminded him of Chuck, all the times he'd been sent to the hospital and tortured endlessly with those machines.   
"Mr. Goodman, please, let's get you inside." Dr. Goodman said quickly with an urgent look in his eyes, their last names a strange coincidence.  
Though the good doctor probably didn't have his changed...  
  
Saul tensed at that, looking at Mike. What the hell was this? Mike shook his head, practically having to pull Saul out of the car and help the medical crew get him secured. They got him inside the tent quickly, Mike closing the tent and watching from a few feet away, in his usual guarding stance. By now, Saul was trying to turn to his side, the bright light overhead hurting. Maybe this is what Chuck had felt like all those times he'd been brought into the emergency room, body wracking with pain and people grabbing at him. It felt apathetic and cold, even as they were trying to save him. He kept his eyes closed tightly, it only taking a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving. Someone rolled his sleeve up, sinking an iv into his arm. Saul barely reacted to it, too overwhelmed with the flurry of lights, beeps, and medical chatter.   
  
"Open your mouth." Someone instructed, Saul instinctively clenching his jaw shut tighter.  
Mike's voice was suddenly much closer, making the sick man flinch, "Saul, they're just treating you. You listen to them, and you'll get out of here much quicker."   
Saul wanted to protest, but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a wave of numbness wash over him. And for a moment, he felt no pain.   
Fuck, that IV wasn't just to keep him hydrated.  
Mike watched as one of the nurses brought over some charcoal capsules, Saul struggling to get them down, not even sure what they were. But he was thankful for the water, even though he almost coughed on it. It wasn't always this hard to breathe, was it? The lawyer started to lose his train of thought, still too sensitive to open his eyes and see what was happening around him. He knew he'd throw up again… And that's when he felt the rubber tube get pushed between his lips and down towards his throat. He instantly tensed and tried to grabbed at the base, wanting to pull it out. It felt like he was gripping it as hard as he could and pulling with a new-found strength, but in reality he was clinging to the last shred of feeling in his arms and hands. You could see the fight draining out of him.

Mike watched, brows furrowed, “Shouldn’t he be out for this?” Watching his extreme discomfort.  
Even while on the verge of consciousness, you could see just how much he was panicking.  
Dr. Goodman huffed lightly, “He’s fighting it. And we don’t exactly have time to wait for him to stop, not with his oxygen levels.”   
Saul thought he could barely breathe before, but this was a hundred times worse. There was a nasty paste coated on the tube, starting to quickly numb his mouth and throat. He couldn't focus on the reassuring voices as he tried desperately to pull the tube out while others tried to keep it in. Why did they need that? What the hell could it be for?   
A pair of hands pried his grip loose from the tube, starting to gently but steadily feed it down his throat. Saul fought the urge to retch, disgusted by the sensation of it pushing into his trachea. He started to feel the drug's effects even more, legs completely numb and useless, and his arms would soon follow. His eyes were slowly relaxing, no longer so scrunched up in pain. But the discomfort was still there, even if his body felt too useless to even react to it. He heard a loud click, followed by a humming noise. Suddenly he could breathe much better, but as if it was no longer his lungs doing the work. He let out something of a soft noise from his throat, realizing that the intrusive sensation was the work of a ventilator. It felt wrong, but it was like his lungs gave up their failing work as soon as the machine came in to save the day. This all felt like too much to be treatment for the flu, and he questioned who the hell these people were. But his wandering thoughts stilled when he suddenly felt a hand rest on his for a moment, both to get his attention and as a small sign of comfort. Saul slowly opened his eyes finally, just enough to make out the blurry frame of Mike. This was probably for the best, as he would’ve caught the look of pity and concern on the older man’s face. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Saul, quit your worrying.” Mike said, as if he could see how much Saul was reeling for answers.  
Saul would have laughed if he could without choking, eyelids too heavy to keep open for long. Within moments, he succumbed to the anesthetic, letting the medical team finish in peace.  
  
\---  
  
“... And how is he now?”  
Even while waking up from a sedation, Saul knew whose voice that was, hoping to never hear it again.  
“He’s stabilized, Mr. Fring. And it looks like there won’t be any permanent damages, very lucky considering the amount he had in his system.” Dr. Goodman stated from about the same distance.  
“Good. And when do you expect his recovery?” Gus asked, voice all-business as usual.  
Dr. Goodman shrugged, “He should be back to himself in a matter of days. We took him off the ventilator this morning, and we’ve downed his morphine dosage… Just enough to keep him comfortable.”  
Saul kept his eyes closed, trying to keep his body completely relaxed, which wasn’t much of a struggle with the morphine drip they had _oh so generously_ gave him. He heard the excuse, but Saul knew it was to keep him from trying to get the hell out of there as soon as he woke.  
Mike’s gruff voice spoke up, “ _Days_ ? He can’t stay here. He barely got out of the car. And after yesterday, I’m sure he won’t wanna spend another minute here… He’s gonna have questions."  
“I’ll be happy to answer them, if you think he can handle it.” Gus responded after a moment.  
Saul could practically _hear_ that creepy-ass smile Gus always wore.  
“Yeah, he’s solid… He’s not going to the police, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he’s skittish, so I can’t guarantee he won’t try to run.” Mike said.  
“I don’t need to remind you that he knows too much already, mostly thanks to Walter.” Gus replied, “We can keep a much better eye on him here.”  
“... I’ll take care of him.” Mike said.  
Saul tried to keep his breathing steady. Take care of him? Usually when Mike said that, it meant something bad to whoever was the problem. Were they really going to kill him after all of this? He didn’t even know what was going on, the idea of demanding answers was almost enough to break Saul from his act. But he didn't give into the temptation, not having enough time even if he'd decided to. The sound of departing steps were heard before a moment of silence.

Saul cautiously peeked, trying to see if they'd all left. Sure enough, the room looked empty. Saul groaned lightly as he tried to sit up in the bed, looking over at the IV in his arm. God he hated needles.  
He winced, trying to get a good hold on it before pulling it out, cursing under his breath.  
“And just where do you think you're going?” An unamused Mike asked from his spot, having been sitting with a newspaper out of Saul’s view.  
Saul jumped lightly, whipping his head towards him before giving an exasperated exhale, “Goddamn it.” Was all he could muster.  
Mike rolled his eyes as he folded the paper up, saying, “I’m gonna take a guess and say that you didn’t just magically wake up as soon as they left. You hear any of that?”  
Saul rubbed the back of his head lightly, saying, “Some of it… Mostly that Gus can’t trust me… And that you’ll… “take care” of me.” Trying to hide the anxiety in his voice.  
Mike nodded lightly, not exactly blaming Saul for avoiding Gus, “I’m gonna get the doc, you stay right here. If you’re out of that bed when I get back here, we’re gonna have some problems. And trust me, you'll need the medicine, or you won't even make the drive."  
The confused lawyer furrowed his brows lightly, “What? But I… I thought you were going to uh- “take care” of me?”  
Mike looked at Saul, slightly annoyed that his worry kept him from registering the phrase correctly, “Yes, I’m _taking care_ of you. Now shut up and conserve your energy, it’s a long drive back to my place.”  
Saul blinked, watching as the older man walked out to get Dr. Goodman.  
Oh shit... Mike was taking care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments and kudos are appreciated :3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments appreciated :)


End file.
